An Oath Sworn
by Swevens
Summary: A young woman of unusual ability, pledged since birth to dedicate her life to the crown, is summoned by Odin in anticipation of the coronation of a new king. When a plot against the crown waylays Odin's plans and plunges Asgard into chaos, pitting brother against brother, one woman has to change fate itself or see all she loves destroyed.
1. The Before

The Future Yet to Come

There we stood, again, the three of us glancing back and forth in a momentary stalemate, watching and waiting to see who will make the first move and break the spell. I hardly dare to draw in another breath as I shift my gaze from one face to another; both as familiar as my own, both unfathomably unrecognizable. No one dares to break the silence stretching from us to eternity.

Not yet.

Blue fire licks the walls around us and illuminates the passing of emotion on all of our faces, the flickering flames so cold upon my bare face that it burns. For years I'd dreamt of this moment, all the disconcerting snatches of this scene now coming together in horrifying clarity.

For what seems like a lifetime now we've danced around each other in circles, somehow eternally gravitating back to each other, despite the passing of space and time, through countless allegiances and betrayals, proclamations of love and hatred, we always return to this moment. Only this time I know in my heart it is altogether different. I don't dare cast my mind forward now; I dread the moment this silence ends and I must know which of us will be destroyed by what is to come. Time beats so slowly that I can almost feel it come to a stop. The knowledge I hold reflects in each face now, for we all know what is to come.

I hold no advantage here any longer. And I don't want to.

Only one question remains now; who will be the one break this circle for the last time, to make the choice from which there will be no coming back – for any of us?

The Before

The sun shone no less brightly upon the doorway of the quiet little post office – an unassuming locale planted on Main Street in a little-known mountain village – yet I shivered as I stepped inside. In a moment of knowing I hadn't experienced in years, I suddenly knew that today a letter sat amongst the usual junk mail. I couldn't say just what was written within the envelope but I knew undoubtedly what it would mean for me.

And so I went through the motion of opening the little mailbox and withdrew the contents. Barely aware of the flyers littered on the floor or the mail key still inserted into the lock on the open cubby door, I ripped the envelope open unceremoniously as I stepped back into the street.

The iridescent scrawl was exactly as I remembered it, though many years had passed since I'd seen the cursive hand within the letter. And just as I'd known moments before opening the correspondence what it would bring, the actual letter's contents confirmed what I'd already known to be true; I had been summoned back to a home I'd left behind a lifetime ago.

I absentmindedly followed a trail out of town; barely noticing when I passed by a secondary trail that led straight to the little cabin I'd lived in for nearly a decade. It was just beginning to feel like home. I pushed that thought from my mind and trudged onward. I'd walk deep into the forest, only stopping when the sun went down some hours later.

Eventually I settled in a clearing; allowing myself enough of a rest to gaze upward one last time at the Midgard sky. Between the trees, the northern lights danced merrily, unaware that I was going through my goodbyes so far below. Far too soon, I knew it was time to go.

"Heimdall," I called out, alone in the clearing, "I am ready."

Alone in the darkened woods, the opening gateway seemed more than magical; it looked as though the northern lights themselves bent towards the earth, teasing the soil with the promise of a kiss. I closed my eyes as the light grew brighter, drawn upward into the Bifrost's hold as though I'd never been away from it.

When at last the atmosphere stilled, I opened my eyes, greeted immediately by the interior of the magnificent golden dome at the end of the world, and a pair of familiar golden eyes nestled within a beloved dark face. The man smiled as I stepped forward, away from the opening at the back of the dome.

"Welcome home, child," he said, extending his arms.

I stepped easily into the embrace. "It's good to see you, Heimdall," I told him. It was almost worth returning outside of my own volition simply for this moment.

Wordlessly, we stepped together out onto the rainbow bridge. The first step made me shiver; the second poured all my tension out through my sole in a river that brought the first deep breath into my lungs. It amazed me how immediately I felt at home here, having left so very long ago.

"I was quite surprised to be summoned back, after being left these long years in peace," I commented, widening my stride to match my companion's. "Tell me, Heimdall, how does the realm fare? What great change has inspired my return to Asgard now, after so many years?"

"The realm is flourishing," he replied. I followed his gaze to the palace, as resplendent as ever, the realm's crowning glory imposing magnificently upon the skyline, even surrounded by the gilded city of Asgard. "The All-father's peace still holds, and the princes are both healthy and grown. As for why you have been called back – well, I imagine Odin will make that clear tonight. He's requested an audience with you at the end of court hours this afternoon. I will escort you straight there; you've no time to seek proper dress in your quarters."

"'Requested' is a gentle word for it, I'm sure," I replied, trying to focus on the crowd milling about on the streets. As fond as I was of the denim jeans and hiking boots I had dressed comfortably in on Earth, I grew somewhat apprehensive at the thought of appearing before the king in anything less than standard courtly garb. Even a sturdy market dress would better instill a sense of self-dignity inside the great hall than Midgard street clothes.

Heimdall reviewed briefly as much of the recent events of the realm as he could before we took to the golden steps of the palace and were ushered in by servants dressed more elegantly than I. The long walk to the throne itself was far shorter than I would have liked it to be, and before I knew it, Heimdall bowed to the king and took his leave.

Belatedly, I sunk into an awkward, unpracticed curtsy and bowed my head in deference to the wizened man upon the throne. "Your Majesty, Odin All-father. I am honoured."

"Not such an honour that you felt compelled to return to your duty of your own volition, it would seem." His dry tone was all too telling. "You may rise, Lady Njola, daughter of Inge. I haven't brought you here before me today to reprimand you, though it would not be so out of place if I did so, indeed."

"I am relieved to hear it," I demurred, after a surprised beat. It had been a very long time since any had known me by that name, and had I not been the only woman placed now before the throne, I might have looked about me at that moment.

"Hm." Odin eyed me appraisingly; it wasn't lost on me that his gaze visibly soured as he appraised my attire. "I don't suppose you've guessed why I've called you back to your people now. It is truly a mark of my own patience that I've allowed you to stray for so long. I haven't forgotten your debt to my family, though I think maybe you have allowed your responsibility to slip from your mind as you frolicked among the mortals on Midgard. Do you recall the duty of which I speak or shall my son remind you of it, Lady Njola?"

He gestured casually to the side, and I nearly jumped in surprise at the figures standing there. In my nervousness, I hadn't even noticed their presence until this moment. There, just beside their father, stood both of Asgard's princes, neither of whom I was confident I'd have recognized if I'd passed them in the market on the way up from the bridge.

Thor, who stood immediately to his father's right, was still painted with the same golden brush as the city itself, and grinned confidently upon me as though he was the sunshine itself beaming down upon the rainbow bridge. I hardly felt my own lips stretch into an echoing expression as I took in this unexpected sight; an old friend grown fully as though by some magic spell. To my horror, it was a struggle to prevent my cheeks from matching my hair, though I thought I managed it in the end. Even as many years apart as this didn't change some things, it seemed.

It was almost impossible to take my eyes from him to study in turn the darker, less striking figure on Thor's other side. Looking more a man than the nearly-grown boy of my memories, the younger prince, Loki, struck a stark contrast with his brother; his inky black hair directly opposing his brother's own golden tones, and a cool calculating gaze that was anything but welcoming were almost enough to evoke a shiver from me, and I allowed myself to study him as he appraised me. More or less as tall as Thor, he seemed almost small when compared to the warrior's frame next to him; his more slender build reminded me at once of hours spent in study with him and his mother in my childhood.

I wondered how much further he was now in his education than I; a disadvantage I imposed upon myself, I could admit. It was perhaps the worst consequence of my decision to leave.

"Very well," Odin interrupted my thoughts with another wave of his hand. Snapped back to the conversation at hand, I found I couldn't remember what we'd been discussing.

Thor cleared his throat. "Your father, during the war with Jotunheim, was appointed as an esteemed general of Asgard, fighting alongside the All-father. It was only when the war ended – in victory for Asgard–"

A couple listeners cheered as Thor spoke of the historic victory, and I could see then that this conversation was about to stray widely from its intended topic.

"As the war came to an end, he was branded a traitor, stripped of his name and title, and sentenced to execution," I spoke, picking up the story. It wouldn't do for Odin to think I'd forgotten my place in Asgard's history. "Rather than die for his crimes, he begged mercy and offered to the throne his firstborn to serve the ruler of Asgard for as long as the child shall draw breath. Through the All-father's great mercy, he accepted his general's proposal and waited for the birth of the child. Though it was nearly three hundred years before such a child was conceived, the general eventually was borne twins."

I cleared my throat, aware of the growing crowd as people stopped to listen. "But a dilemma arose as both of the babes, son and daughter, entered the world together, one coming neither before nor after the other. The throne offered to take both rather than separate brother and sister. But the general argued he'd pledged only one child to the king, and tried to trick his majesty. He insisted that neither of his children were solely firstborn, and so the king was not owed either child. Ever merciful, the All-father instead allowed the siblings to remain together for a time, until it could be determined which child should be chosen to serve the throne and pay the general's penance."

Odin nodded and assumed the role of storyteller, speaking to the crowd. "And so it was. For several years, the disgraced general was allowed the presence of both twins, and they both developed prestigious talents. The first of these talents became known at a Winter Solstice feast when the twins accompanied their mother to the palace as honoured guests. Now a young child, the girl approached my firstborn son, Thor, and delivered her first prophecy; she told him he'd soon suffer a fall from his mount and be delivered a hoof-shaped bruise to his temple."

Somewhere behind me, a lady gasped at that. Odin paused, a true storyteller allowing the tension in the room to build before he continued. "Thor himself laughed at the tale and received it as a child's fanciful yarn, but he regretted his dismissal of the girl-child when, during a race the very next day, he fell from his horse – the only injury a hoof-shaped bruise upon his forehead. Seeing at once the use such talents could be to the throne, I arranged for the child to remain at the palace following the Solstice where she was educated by the finest tutors in the realm, preparing for the day she'll pledge her allegiance to my son on the day he is to become king, and serve as his left-hand, a divine advisor to protect all of Asgard from future threats. If anyone is unaware, this young woman now before us is the very same child I speak of, blessed with the ability to glimpse the coming future."

A smattering of applause in the hall marked the tale's end, and much of the crowd began to disperse. I noticed for the first time that Queen Frigga is installed regally on Odin's other side. I met her gaze then, and although she allowed a soft smile, she didn't interrupt her husband's oration.

"Well, that summarizes the past," Odin continued, fixing his one-eyed gaze once again upon me. "Though I'd imagine, seeing as you apparently do remember your past well enough, that you might be more interested in the present; more specifically, why it requires your presence here."

"I could make an educated guess," I said without thinking. I cringed at his expression as Odin raised an eyebrow, bidding me to elaborate. "I am led to think, your majesty," I began again, attempting a more respectful tone, "that you plan to appoint your successor in the near future, and as I am required to act as the royal oracle in such event, I have been summoned back to fulfill my duty as such."

"Have you seen such events, then?" Odin asked, indirectly confirming my suspicions.

I caught myself focussing on my boots and forced my eyes back to Odin's. "No, your majesty. Over time, Midgard…weakened my ability to see."

Indeed, the knowledge of the letter's purpose yesterday was a fluke, the first hint of my talent I'd experienced in years. If I had to guess, I'd think it was the letter's own tie to Asgard that evoked my power and wasn't directly my doing. The thought didn't bolster my ego, having to admit such a thing to the king.

The All-father scoffed at that. I didn't need him to say it explicitly to be made aware of his disgust in that moment. "As I'd suspected. It is well that I thought better than to summon you back any later than I did. You see, Lady Njola, I have been awake for far too long now, and intend to appoint Thor as my successor before entering into my next great Sleep. You will have a full year to return to your studies before I call for the coronation, and then you will pledge yourself, your talents and loyalty, to Thor as your ruler."

Thor looked upon his father with anticipation at that, obviously eager to take up his father's mantle. It didn't escape me that Loki's jaw seemed to momentarily clench before relaxing back into a neutral expression.

"A year should be plenty of time to regain my talents, and perhaps enhance them to some degree, your majesty," I assured him, declining my head briefly in respect.

"I should expect so." Odin frowned as he continued. "You will also partake in extensive physical training with the warriors. You will often be expected to accompany Thor on excursions to other realms and will be a danger to his missions and his very life if you cannot protect your king's back on a battlefield, let alone your own. Your training begins tomorrow at dawn, so I suggest you make your way promptly to your quarters. A meal will be brought to you at your request for tonight. Shall I summon a servant to escort you, or do you remember the way to your own rooms?"

The flint in his tone wasn't lost on me. Rather than assert the impossibility of such a schedule, I bowed again. "No your majesty, I remember. Thank you."

I backed away respectfully from the throne. Odin turned to the side and spoke quietly to Frigga, who nodded at his words. As I turned to exit the throne room, I caught Thor's eye.

He grinned and nodded towards me. "See you bright and early, then, Njo."

Glad as I was to see my old friends, I went to bed with a heavy heart and dreamt of a little log cabin at the foot of a Midgardian mountain. I slept fitfully that first night, and for many that followed, trying over and over to fit a golden key into the brass lock on the cabin door. I never did manage to open it, and eventually I began to dream of my resumed life in Asgard.

…And one day I dreamt again of the future – and a glorious, golden figure upon the throne of Asgard.


	2. Present Day

I'm already panting, exhaustion settling in my muscles as the towering beast of a man bears down upon me again, loosing a great battle cry as he charges forward, hammer aimed squarely at my chest. With my own sword held at the ready, my muscles coil in anticipation. Glinting metal flashes as Thor, my opponent, strikes; I deflect the blow with my blade and roll sideways.

Aware of my flagging stamina, I close my eyes instead of attempting a quick counterstrike. Willing myself to concentrate, I focus inward, rewarded with the tingly feeling of my swelling magic as I ready this new tactic. I hear a frustrated groan nearby and open my eyes – or rather, both versions of me open my eyes.

"This trickery is dishonest, cowardly!" Thor protests, glancing back and forth in frustration.

"Maybe, but my enemies and yours will be equally dead, either way," I retort, amused.

Thor grins at that, and suddenly launches straight at me – the real me. Caught off-guard, I barely get my sword up before impact. Unable to wholly counter the attack, the force of the offense knocks me flat upon my back, knocking the wind from my lungs. Thor lands on top of me, having overestimated his attack projector, an error that flattens my already gasping lungs. Desperately, I strike at his chest with a fist, and he rolls sideways into the dirt beside me.

I will myself into a sitting position, and watch as Fandral, standing at the sideline, stretches his hand out towards Sif. She rolls her eyes at him…but then reaches into a small pouch at her belt and draws out several coins, forcefully placing them in Fandral's hand. Realizing what had happened, I shoot Fandral a dirty look; he almost has the propriety to look sheepish as he shrugs. Almost.

Thor springs lithely to his feet and offers me a hand up, unable to smother a smug chuckle. My body aches more than my pride, so I accept the hand, brushing the dust from my gear as I catch my breath. "How'd you guess that was me?" I ask when I finally catch a proper breath.

"How could he not?" A low, silky voice interjects. I turn to see Loki standing nearby, looking bored. "You've managed to project yourself, but not control it."

"Hey it was pretty good," Thor argues, a show of good sportsmanship in the wake of another victory. "I was almost confused. It was probably the best you have done yet; see, you are improving. Next time, I might not even know." He smiles encouragingly.

Loki approaches slowly, calculating. "Your projection is comparable to a mural rendering," he says to me, circling around us. He comes to a stop just behind me. "The image is uncannily similar to reality, true enough, but so lifeless there's no mistaking it for the real thing. I could do better as a child."

Impulsively I spin around, raising a hand to swat his shoulder in annoyance; only my hand connects with air as Loki vanishes. I turn back around just as he steps out from behind a nearby building, a smirk playing irritatingly across his lips.

"The Queen wanted to see you for a bit before you attend to your…preparations for tomorrow. Best go now or you won't have time to go at all," he says. He pauses only a beat before jerking his chin towards the street, beckoning me to follow as he turns back towards the palace. Handing my sword to Thor, I manage a slow jog on exhausted legs of jelly, catching up to Loki only a block from the training grounds.

"You'd be able to do it flawlessly by now," he says, not bothering to acknowledge my presence with so much as a glance, "if you'd remained on Asgard and carried on with your training. I've been trying to understand throughout this past year – watching you struggle to remember the simple principles you'd mastered as a child – what possessed you to throw _everything_ you had away, and for what? To fraternize with frivolous, inconsequential mortals –"

I hate the derision in his voice.

"It was never about where I was going," I snap, speeding up enough that he disappears from my peripheral. "Midgard, Valhalla, the moon…it was about what I was leaving. If you only knew what it was like here back then, knowing my future – my entire life – had been decided almost from birth –"

He grabs my arm, spinning me around forcefully to face him at a standstill in the street. "I know exactly what. That. Is like," he growls between clenched teeth. He gives my arm a brief shake, his strong fingers digging painfully into my flesh. "At least you get to stand in the light, in your own right. You may not exactly be one of them, but all those people back there – they accept you. They trust you. They look past the magic –"

He takes in a short breath, suddenly releasing my arm and stepping forward, assuming the same pace he'd maintained a moment ago. "There are far, _far_ worse fates than the one you have been given. Believe you me."

Wrapped up in the turbulent emotion the moment has stirred, it is my turn to grab at his arm. "Show me," I demand, arming my expression with steel as I meet his own icy stare.

"Show you what?" The bite in his voice is dampened as he tries to figure out just what I mean.

"Show me how to cast a believable projection," I clarify. Having thrown the conversation and caught his attention, I continue my bid. "Your mother is a wonderful teacher, I won't argue that; I am thoroughly relearning the theory I once knew, but it isn't enough. I need a challenge; I need to do something I _want_ to do. Writing out Hesce's principles, sparring with the warriors as they _toy_ with me as though I'm a _mouse_ – it's not enough. None of it is nearly enough."

Loki carefully extracts his arm from my grasp and turns back towards the palace. "Even if I could understand the feeling, there is an order to follow for a reason. The theory Mother is teaching you is the foundation – the framework for all that follows. The greatest talent is rendered inconsequential without the theory to root it, to build from. Odin is right in insisting you start again from the beginning."

He gracefully takes the steps up to the palace doors two at a time, outpacing my aching muscles.

"If you won't help me, I will find another," I say to his back. "I've heard the stories of the woodsmen. I'll search the realm in its vast entirety until I find one who will help me learn what you will not."

I don't know if it's surprise on his part that I'm still arguing my case or something else I can't guess at, but he pauses just a second in the doorway before ducking into the shadows beyond a pillar just inside the great hall. I follow him to the deepest shadows in the great hall's corner, glancing about as I do so, wary of the smattering of people going about their business. None seem to notice as we move into near-darkness.

"You are only going to damage your own ability, risking that," he says in a harsh whisper. "Improper training with any old mill-o'-the-woods witch is only going to devalue your potential. You might as well give up your magic altogether if you do such a thing, for the effect will be the same, and for much less trouble on your part."

Despite his casually disinterested affect in the warriors' presence, I know from our lessons together as children the great pride he places on his own magical talents. It is this that I play to now.

"Could you give up your magic, Loki?" I ask it, but we both know it's not a question that needs to be dignified with an answer. Desperate for him to understand, I grasp at the opening of his outer cloak and pull him a step closer, so I can see his eyes in the dimly lit corner. They look almost black in the darkness; I can't tell at all what he's thinking.

"This is more than a hobby, and both of us know that. I know there are others here whose interest moves little beyond cheap party tricks and spells of convenience but that isn't how it is for me. I know it isn't like that for you, either. That's why I need you to understand this. When we were kids, I think you recognized that in me – that same reverence you yourself felt – and I can understand how you thought yourself mistaken when I left.

"In truth, when I left Asgard I forced myself to block it out, as if I cut off my own arm, and I learned for a time to live without it. But leaving was a mistake, I see that now. I just _cannot_ live my life any longer without the most important piece of myself! This is more than a decent projection, a means to an end to me; it is a physical and vital part, the essence of my very soul, the passion by which I measure all others and I need it back desperately!"

"You want to speak to me of passion, whilst gripping my robes in a darkened corner?" His tone is light, and while I let go of his cloak at that, I am suddenly worried that he's simply amused by my heartfelt words, and feel a desperate anger rising up in the back of my throat. I close the distance between us instantly, struggling to keep my words at a whisper.

"I will venture out in search of the woodsmen; I will learn half of it improperly and be forced to tear it down and start at the beginning, but I will do it anyway, because I _need_ to reconnect to the magic. I didn't let myself see how leaving suffocated me, and now that the air has come back, I need to breathe it in, in big, gasping breaths! I need to breathe, Loki, or what is the purpose in living at all?"

My heart is racing desperately and my breath comes fast, but I can't think of any other way to impress upon him how much I need this and so I wait a beat, as he studies my face in the near-darkness. Finally, without any expression, he speaks.

"Meet me in the library tonight, after nightfall. We shall begin then. If I find your plea to lack integrity, I will not deign to invest my time again, so prepare yourself accordingly. I do not give second chances, Njola."

He slips off abruptly, the dark colours of his robes concealing him easily within the shadows. I don't follow; he's already said all I needed him to. Instead I cross the great hall promptly on my own, joining Frigga for an afternoon of reviewing the old tomes of my childhood, my vigor even for this renewed.


End file.
